Unwritten
by Bizzy
Summary: An AlSheska story, that started out as a requested drabble and decided it wanted to me more substantive! Rated becuase I'm paranoid. [Chapter 3 Up]
1. You Don't Remember

_Unwritten_

Author's Notes: I don't own FMA, someone want to get it for me for my 20th birthday? That'd be cool.

This was actually a drabble request that I started writing, and the drabble decided it wanted to go further than just a little thing, so I've decided to make it a fic. It's Alphonse/Sheska, it may be long (but I don't know), it was requested by Wing Omega and therefore is dedicated to Wing Omega, and…that is all. Oh, **movie spoilers**, but it deviates from the plot quite a bit; it's actually a revelation from the very beginning of the movie, so it doesn't really _ruin_ the movie but better safe than sorry, I always say…

Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

The library was quiet, and she flipped each page slowly, engrossed. It was a captivating book on alchemy, and though she understood very little of it, the book was in the library and, therefore, lent itself to being read.

It was the door swinging open so violently that snapped her attention away from said book, and she looked up, seeing a red-cloaked figure darting through the room. She got to her feet immediately, frustrated that he had just come running in and disturbing the silence in the building; she considered it well within her rights to scold him for being so inconsiderate.

The brunette finally found him in a back corner of the library, sitting on the floor, and instantly, green eyes widened behind glasses. That red coat, the black shirt, the hair; she knew she recognized him.

"E…Edward?" she stammered, before crouching down on the floor. "Ed?" she repeated, gripping his shoulders, shaking him, "Ed, listen to me—we've been so worried, Winry's been beside herself, you've been gone for almost two years—where have you _been_? Your brother is convinced that—"

She fell silent when the person finally looked up.

"_Alphonse_!"

His eyes were just a hair darker than his older brother's, his face pallid and hair plastered against his head from running, or perhaps the rain; Sheska wasn't sure. Either way, he looked distressed.

"Al…what are you doing here? Are you all right?" She tilted Al's chin upwards, to make out the rest of his features. He looked younger than she might've pictured him, but the resemblance to his brother was uncanny. In Ed's clothes, he looked just like his brother.

"I don't know," came the quiet response.

Sheska frowned, reaching into a pocket in search of a handkerchief, towel, anything she could dry him off with. Anything. "How did you get all the way to Central?"

He only shrugged.

"Al, please," Sheska murmured quietly, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. "I don't know what happened but…you…you're soaking wet. At least let me find you something dry to wear."

Al yanked his hand away from her, eyes narrowed defensively, and she froze, panicked. Then, her eyes flickered with remembrance.

"You don't remember me."

Slowly, he shook his head. "No," he said softly. "I don't. I can't."

Sheska frowned, but grabbed his hand again, tugging him back to where she had been sitting, before gathering her books and her umbrella, slipping on her jacket. "Sheska," she said quietly. "Winry has been writing to me, telling me how things have been going. I heard you were back with your teacher, Izumi Curtis."

He stiffened, and shook his head.

"No? Why would she say that…"

"Teacher passed away," he replied softly, golden eyes focused on the ground.

"Oh…Al, I'm…I'm so sorry," she mumbled, brows furrowed as she started towards the door. "Come on. You can't go walking about soaking wet. You'll catch your death of a cold."

* * *

The walk through the rain was silent. In the house, it was silent. Alphonse stood, still dripping wet, in her front foyer, not daring to go further for fear of tripping over books or getting things in the house wetter than absolutely necessary. Sheska finally returned, towel in tow, smiling at him, "here. I put some clothes in the washroom. It's not much. Probably won't even fit all that well but you'll get sick staying in that. Just change, dry off, and I'll make you some tea. Go ahead," she added, waving a hand to shoo him in the proper direction.

Turning to the stove, she started heating the water, quiet, concerned. She hadn't heard of Izumi's death, nor had she heard that Al had gone missing, though obviously that had to be the case, considering he had just show up all the way in Central, when he had supposedly been staying with Izumi in Dublith. Sheska could only imagine how—_why_—he ended up in Central, of all places, where she knew that he had no connection. He might have spent a lot of time here in his travels with Edward, but she knew that he didn't remember. She wondered if he was just trying to escape people he knew.

She didn't turn when she heard footsteps behind her, and jumped with a start when a hand was tapping her shoulder, almost anxiously. She turned to see him staring right at her, looking tired and weary but a smile resting on the edges of his mouth. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Sheska grinned at him, "wow, my father's clothes fit you pretty well! He forgot one of his bags when he visited last. You know, you're a lot taller than Edward was."

He shrugged slightly, a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Can I help you with anything? I don't want to impose on you."

"It's all right. I'm just waiting for the water to heat up. Is there anything I can do for _you_?" she asked softly,

"You've done a lot."

Sheska smiled wearily, hearing the kettle whistle behind her. She served two cups of tea, and sat him down at the small kitchen table, still smiling at him. "Just drink this, warm yourself up. You're going to have a nasty cold if you don't."

"I'll have a nasty cold anyway," he replied quietly, "and I'm not going to stay here, not going to keep imposing on you. You've helped a lot already…"

She smiled, "shut up and drink the tea, Al. Then you're going to get some sleep. Don't _worry_ about it," she added hastily, "I'm happy to help you out." Sheska paused, looking into her cup of tea, "it's good to see you."

* * *

The next morning, Sheska was up first. Opening the shades, she yawned, wondering what she had planned for the day; thankfully she had a day off. It was when she crossed her apartment and saw Al sleeping on the couch that she remembered that he was still here.

His breathing was a bit heavy, brow covered with sweat. Frowning, she approached him, pulling the blanket back up to his shoulder. She brushed her fingertips against his forehead, and sighed; he had a fever. She walked to the kitchen, heating up another kettle to get hot water for tea, and also grabbing a washcloth which she dipped in cool water and a rice cake, in case he was hungry. When the tea was ready, she walked back into the other room, crouching beside the makeshift bed.

"Well, you went and caught yourself a nasty cold just like I thought you would," she said softly, folding the washcloth and placing it on his head. "You know, you're unbelievable? You even have a fever." The girl sounded far less annoyed than she did concerned, and placed the cup of tea and rice cake on the table beside the couch.

"Hey, Al? I'm going to go get you some medicine," she mumbled, well aware that he was asleep and that she was not his babysitter, and that she was fully capable of leaving the house without telling him where she was headed. She couldn't bear to just leave him without telling him at least where she had gone, so she grabbed a small piece of paper, and scribbled a short note for her.

Grabbing her coat, she sighed, "and maybe a book on how to make you feel better."

* * *

It was almost noon by the time Sheska returned to the apartment, bag in tow, and several books piled in her arms. It had been her only solution, she defended quietly—she didn't know how to help Alphonse if he had a bad cold, but the nurse in the infirmary at the military base _did_ know. But she should've known that showing up at work would've ended up in getting work to do on her day off.

Placing the pile of books on the kitchen table, she walked over to Al. He was still asleep, but she noticed that the tea had been sipped at, at some point in her almost four-hour absence. The rice cake was exactly where she had left it, and the note had something written on it. From the angle she was standing at, she couldn't quite make out the handwriting. Picking it up, she smiled. His handwriting was sloppy when he didn't feel well, but it was the thought that counted, correct? All his note said was _'Thank you, Sheska'_.  
"Hey, Al?" she asked softly, placing the note back on the table and shaking his shoulders just slightly. "The nurse in the infirmary at work told me what medicine I should give you, that will help your fever go down."

He stirred only slightly, but didn't wake up. She shook him again, concerned. "Come on Al, I have to give you this. Please?"

She could feel him stretching wearily under the blanket, and then he sat bolt upright, somewhat puzzled. Golden eyes stared directly into her green, and he blinked, in a state of attempting to process what was going on, exactly.

"Sheska?"

The brunette grinned, nodding emphatically. "Yeah! I just got back from—"

"Thank you," he mumbled, his throat dry. She shook her head, and then sat on the couch next to him.

"I have some medicine for you," she declared, digging through the bag from the store, finally producing the thick purple liquid. "The nurse said it's rather disgusting, but it works really well."

"I don't need any medicine," he replied starkly.

"Yes you do. You have a fever."

"Which will go away on his own."

Sheska shook her head, "nope. The nurse said I'm going to give this to you, so I'm going to give it to you, and that's the end of it. I'll get you water." Knowingly, she kept the medicine bottle in hand as she went back to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and returning with it. She mumbled quietly to herself as she read the directions on the bottle, before giving him the proper dose.

"Sheska, I don't think I really…"

"Just take the medicine!" she ordered, one foot stomping on the ground. "It will make you feel better!"

"But I don't think I need it."

"Well _I_ do, and it's my apartment. You're so stubborn, Al, just take it."

The grimace she was met with reminded her of Ed's dislike for milk, and she debated pouring the medication down his throat if necessary. Sheska crossed her arms, her look like a mother scolding a naughty child. "Take the medicine, Al."

He sighed, shaking his head, but didn't even bother to protest. He swallowed the small cupful in one gulp, and then quickly downed the entire glass of water. The escapade was completed with him coughing, as he hadn't paused to breathe between the consumption of the two liquids. When Al looked back at her, his gaze was dark, brow furrowed.

"That stuff is disgusting."

"Well, it's medicine. It's not going to taste like candy, if that's what you were expecting!"

Al cracked a small smile, nodding a bit. She was right, and they both knew it.

"I need to unpack the groceries, and then I have some paperwork to do. Just transcribing. I can't believe they suckered me into working on my day off!"

"How'd they do that?" Al asked, coughing again to clear his throat, though his voice was still hoarse.

"I told you, I wasn't sure what medicine would be helpful, so I asked the nurse at the military base. I just didn't get away fast enough, Lieutenant Ross found me and said that there was a huge pile of work on my desk that needed to be addressed. I tried to tell her it's my day off, but she wasn't really all that interested."

"I'll help you, if I can," he said quietly, getting to his feet. Sick as he was, he still offered her his hand to pull her to her feet, the smirk on his face lopsided.

"You need to rest," Sheska replied.

"I'm all right, I was only up for about ten minutes when you were out, it's almost noon, isn't it?" Al questioned rationally. "Think of it as…a thank you present—you really don't have to do this for me."

"I know," she replied brightly, grabbing his arm as he helped her up, beaming at him. "I want to."


	2. A Dozen Red Roses

Recovered a few days later, Al was still bustling about Sheska's apartment, unsure of what to do with himself. He kept things tidy for her while she worked, and often did little jobs for her like run errands, though he found it impossibly easy to get lost meandering around a huge city that he had no recollection of.

About five days into his stay with her—she hadn't made a single comment to ask him where he planned on going, what he planned to do, a kindness that Al found himself _greatly_ appreciating—Alphonse decided that he had two things to do. The first was to telephone the Rockbells, and tell them that he was all right, currently in Central with Sheska. The other was to make Sheska a nice dinner, since she had been so nice to him.

The telephone call to Winry went far better than he had expected. She was infuriated at first, beside herself with worry, and she made sure that he was aware of it. But her anger dissipated when he said that he was staying with Sheska, and that he was having a good time helping her around her apartment. As if Winry knew something that he didn't, she just told him to take care of himself, and to keep in touch. Then she hung up on him.

He stopped at the grocery store, getting a few items for a nice dinner. It was getting chilly out again, and he thought soup would be a nice dinner. A dinner that was nice, warm, and that he couldn't _possibly_ ruin.

Passing the florist shop, he paused, debating whether or not to get Sheska flowers. She had been so nice to him, for a reason that he couldn't quite place spare pity or guilt. Neither of those seemed to explain her behavior, though, she he left it at that. Entering the florists, he looked around nervously. He had picked flowers for Winry and Auntie Pinako a few times, usually transmuting them into a decoration. He didn't want to do that for Sheska. It didn't seem the same.

The owner of the shop was staring at him, he was sure of it because he could feel her eyes on the back of his head. Finally, she approached him.

"I've been trying to place your face for quite a while," the woman said brightly. "Is that you, Alphonse?"

The boy looked at her, puzzled. "Yeah…but…?"

"Oh, that's right," she murmured, smiling sadly. "I forgot. Sheska told me what Miss Winry had said, that you don't remember much of what you did with your brother. I'm Gracia Hughes, you and your brother spent a lot of time with myself, my husband, and our daughter, Elysia. In fact, you were there when she was born." The woman crossed her arms, following his gaze, as he was staring at a bouquet of flowers.

"You look a lot like your brother, if you didn't I would've never known it was you. Are you here to get some flowers?"

Al nodded. "I've been staying with a friend since I arrived in Central, and she's been so kind. I'm going to make dinner for her, and I was passing the shop when I was headed back, and thought maybe flowers would be nice."

Gracia laughed, "that's a lovely idea. Planning on telling me who the lucky lady is?"

Al could feel a blush crawl across his cheeks, but tried to ease his way out of the situation. "Sheska, I ran into her at the library."

Gracia nodded, turning to the flowers as if she hadn't noticed that he was blushing at all. "So, you two are just friends? Or maybe something more?"

Al stiffened, and turned back to Gracia, golden eyes wide with shock.

"Relax, Alphonse—I was just teasing. But flowers can have meanings behind them, they can say more than words will. I wouldn't want to give you a dozen roses if you were just trying to be friendly, then you'd be giving her the wrong impression." Gracia reached up, fingering one of the blood-red roses sitting in a vase in front of them.

For a moment, he stared, and then he swallowed, feeling a lump settling in his throat. "The roses are very beautiful," he said nervously.

Taking the hint, Gracia clapped her hands together, "all right! I'll get them put together for you, give me a couple of minutes!" The woman immediately went to work, gathering up the roses and arranging them in a way that only a florist could understand, before presenting him with a bouquet of a dozen roses, sprinkles of baby's breath in them, wrapped in green.

"H…how much is that, Mrs. Hughes?"

Gracia waved a hand at him, "don't worry about it, Alphonse. I just hope she likes those flowers."

* * *

As of dinnertime, he had made the food successfully. Sheska usually returned to the apartment by six o'clock, and it was exactly ten minutes till. He was stirring the soup, having stopped to check the recipe for what felt like the thousandth time, though it was a pointless effort since it was far too late to fix any mistakes he had already made. Alphonse continually reminded himself that he could cook, but he was just nervous.

Though he wasn't sure at _all_ why he'd be nervous.

The front door swung open, and Sheska came in, yawning, a few books tucked under her arms. She put them on the small side table in the living room. "Hey, Al? Are you here?"

"I'm in the kitchen, Sheska," he said, swallowing thickly. She was back, and there was no turning back now. He just hoped that his soup didn't taste like poison.

Standing in the doorway of the small kitchen, Sheska flushed a deep crimson, "A…Al, what is all this?"

He turned from the stove, grinning sheepishly. "Well…you've been so nice, letting me stay here, and helping me get over that cold, I thought that I should do something nice for you."

She eyeballed the table, looking at the fact that he had already set it, and though the spoons didn't match and the plates had different patterns, and though the tablecloth had a small stain in the corner, she couldn't help but feel her heart flutter nervously in her chest.

Suddenly, she felt something being pressed under her nose, and her eyes widened when she saw that he was handing her a bouquet of flowers. He was positively beaming at her, though the flush on his face revealed that he was far more nervous than he wanted her to realize.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Al," she said quietly, taking the flowers from him.

He laughed, as though beyond proud of himself for his handiwork. "I wanted to."

Sheska couldn't help but notice that he didn't fall behind his usual '_you've been so kind to me, I should return the favor'_ mantra, and found that the flush on her cheeks deepened. It was then that she looked at the flowers, pausing to admire their beauty. They were long, red roses. A dozen red roses. Her eyes widened. Hadn't she read somewhere that…

"Soup's ready!" Al exclaimed suddenly, serving two bowls for them both and placing them on the tabletop, before taking a small loaf of bread and placing that on the table as well. He paused to offer her a vase so the flowers wouldn't wilt, and helped her place them in just the right corner of the table so they could still talk while they ate. Alphonse insisted upon pulling the chair out for her, and letting her serve herself first. He was such a gentleman, she mused, finding that she was staring blankly at him, and he was staring right back at her.

"Thank you," Sheska finally stammered nervously, "the flowers are beautiful, the soup is great."

He was beaming at her, but he didn't say anything in response, eyes glued to her, seemingly more interested in the fact that she was enjoying dinner than tasting how his cooking had come out.

The whole meal proceeded like that, an indecent amount of staring, the both of them a bundle of nerves for reasons neither could grasp, and eventually, he started clearing the table. The conversation had been nice, and it was getting late. If he remembered correctly, Sheska had work early in the morning.

"Hey, Al?" she asked quietly as she watched him scrub the dirt from the dishes.

"Hm?" He turned only slightly, his eyes smiling at her.

The only response he got was the jarring feeling of her pulling him away from the sink, wrapping both arms around his shoulders awkwardly, green eyes full of tears, as she held him tight to her in the hug, resting her head against his shoulder.


	3. You'll Stay

"Are you going to go back to Risembool, Al?"

He shook his head slowly, arms crossed across his chest, golden eyes staring at the military headquarters.

"Are you going to stay here?"

The nod was just slight.

"What do you plan to do? I can't get an answer if you just keep nodding or shaking your head, you know." The brunette placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head stubbornly. "I don't like the look on your face, Al, you're creeping me out."

Sheska pouted anxiously, drumming her fingertips on her elbow. "Well, tell me what you're up to. C'mon Al. Please?"

"I want to work for the military. Access to documents I couldn't ordinarily get my hands on, research, even if I just work in bookkeeping, I don't present myself as much of a soldier and would never get a role as one."

Sheska bit her lip. "Picturing you in a military uniform is actually kind of funny, Al."

He turned slightly, "I'm not fooling around."

She paused to take in his stance, and took notice of something that she should've been well aware of from the start. Gold eyes were narrowed, arms crossed defensively across his form—she should have known that he wasn't joking around from the moment they left her apartment. She should've known and somehow felt guilty for not.

"Go speak to Second Lieutenant Ross," Sheska declared quietly.

Al turned, brows furrowed, curious.

"She's been looking for help in the Investigations Division. She doesn't have a lot of leverage, but she has some. Her, and Sergeant Denny Brosch, they work together. They know you, or rather _knew_ you. For a while they worked for Major Armstrong, before he left. I know they wanted help, and since they used to know you, they can point you in the right direction—that is, if they can't get you in themselves."

"I thought that Winry said you worked in Investigations?"

Sheska shook her head slowly. "No," she mumbled. "Lieutenant Col—I mean, Brigadier General Hughes fired me. I guess he was trying to be protective, but even when I went back to work at Central headquarters, I couldn't bear to take up a position he ordered me to leave. I felt like it would…" she paused, biting her lip. "Like dishonoring a man's last wish."

Gold eyes widened, "What?"

Slowly, the brunette folded her hands in front of her, swallowing thickly. "He fired me."

"I got that part," he said slowly. "What do you mean when you say—"

"He was killed by a homunculus named Envy," Sheska blurted suddenly, green eyes wide with nerves, brimming slightly with tears. "He fired me when he was running out of the office, so I wouldn't get tangled up in the information he found out."

For a moment, they were both silent, Sheska wavering slightly as she fought back the tears. "I couldn't go back to Investigations even when they asked me to. I just couldn't."

Alphonse stood quietly, before turning to her, the frown on his face deepening, and he opened his mouth to say something. She was quiet for a moment, a hand going up to silence him, before nudging him forwards, voice wavering as she shifted her gaze to the cobblestones beneath her feet. "Go ask for Lieutenant Ross."

"I'm sorry, Sheska," he murmured as he stalked towards the building, feeling as though he had gone digging through a grave only to find more dead bodies than he had bargained for.

She stared at the ground where Alphonse had previously been standing, before turning to leave, shaking her head. "So am I."

* * *

"Alphonse?"

The boy looked up from the file folder he was holding, to see a young woman standing directly in front of him, appearing to be particularly puzzled. Her black hair was cropped short against her face, and her smile widened when he responded to his name.

"I don't believe that's you, Al," she said quietly, taking a seat next to him. "You look so different. But you have the same eyes as your brother, you know."

He sat still, nodding slowly.

For a moment, Second Lieutenant Maria Ross sat nervously beside him, sensing the tension radiate from his form. Finally, she heaved a sigh, gray eyes closing just slightly. "I forgot," she said. "Sheska had warned me that you wouldn't remember me. Second Lieutenant Maria Ross." Finally, she bowed her head to Al in a proper introduction, and he responded.

"Alphonse Elric."

Ross had to laugh at that, though it was tense and even bordered on forced. "I didn't need you to tell me that. I remember you."

The comment stung, but he forced a small smile, nodding. "Sorry. Sheska told me I should come to you if I was hoping to get work here."

She folded her hands in her lap, the small falling just slightly. "Why would you want to work in the military, Al? That sort of life doesn't seem to suit you."

"I need access to documents, to figure out whatever I can to find brother. I need to support myself, because I won't go back to Risembool. I…can't."

Her gaze softened, and she rested a palm on his leg, "I'll see if we can find something for you. The Investigations Division needs a bookkeeper. I don't suppose you have a photographic memory, but you always did present yourself as an intelligent young man. I'm sure I could find something."

* * *

"Well?"

Sheska looked up from her work, eyes wide. Green met gold, and she immediately saw the hints of frustration there. She froze, puzzled. "Al…?"

"Investigations won't take me," he declared quietly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "The second I finished getting my application in, Lieutenant Hawkeye, I think it was, came up to me and explained that, if hired, herself and her superior officer wanted me to work with them."

Sheska paused, pen colliding with countertop. "Lieutenant Hawkeye tracked you down? And then asked you to work with…" The girl struggled to process the information.

"I knew her?"

For what felt like the thousandth time that day, Sheska nodded. It was so painfully awkward, she had noticed, seeing the confusion plastered on his face when someone looked at him with a recognizing smile, and all he could do was stare blankly back at them. The confusion didn't suit his features. "You knew her. Your brother worked for Brigadier General Mustang when he was still a Colonel. He was the Flame Alchemist."

Al nodded slowly, looking to the floor. "Did I know everyone there?"

"Most of them, at least somewhat," Sheska replied. "I can't believe you never got told the whole story of the military proceedings, since the information you two found came primarily from military sources, I'm surprised Winry left out all those details."

He shrugged slowly, "maybe they're details she doesn't really know."

It was quiet for a few moments. "I need to give you a crash-course on who you're going to meet in Central who will recognize you or your name," she declared suddenly, slamming both palms on the desk. "I hate to see that look on your face; there are points where I'm just waiting for a question-mark to pop out of your skull."

That said, she began rummaging through her desk, mumbling something incoherently under her breath as she searched. Finally, she took out a small photo album, and placed it atop the papers, pointing to the chair. "Well?"

Slipping into the seat beside her desk, he sat down, focused intently on mastering information that he had previously known.


End file.
